Back Again Like A Bad Penny
by dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: "Your mind will play tricks on you - your eyes will deceive you - but your heart will always tell you the truth." Carla struggles to come to terms with how she escaped the factory the night Frank Foster was murdered.
1. Chapter 1

"Apparently she'd overheard him taunting me about," Carla hesitated for a moment. It didn't seem to matter how often she said them the words still burned like a fire in her throat. She swallowed her discomfort and sunk closer into Michelle's warm embrace, "how he raped me and got away with it. That was the police on the phone just now, telling me that I am no longer a suspect."

Michelle sighed as she continued to rub her sister-in-law's shoulders. "It's hard to believe they ever thought you would have done it in the first place Carla. You were flamin' petrified of him! I still don't know how you mustered up the courage to go back in there and confront him that night."

"Whiskey and a run-in with your boyfriend's ex will do that to you," Carla muttered under her breath.

Peter took a sip of his coffee, his eyes remaining fixed on his girlfriend. Even now, having been informed she was no longer a suspect for Frank's murder, she still looked as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. He had watched as she made Simon his breakfast of toast and Nutella that morning, her hand pausing as she reached for the butter knife. He had watched as her shaking hand hovered over the metal utensil, her eyes rapidly blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, before taking a deep breath and picking it up gingerly; sniffling back the tears and spreading the chocolate mixture onto Simon's toast.

He knew Simon still blamed Carla for Leanne leaving, and things may never be smooth sailing with them, but after Carla's frantic call to him following his and Si's pizza night, Peter whisked his son to A & E, arriving just in time to see a nurse bandaging Carla's bleeding hand. Giving his son some money to buy sweets from the machine, he was surprised when Simon arrived back with a candy bar he had selected himself for Carla as well. Peter knew these were baby steps with the lad. There was no way to know how long the friendliness would last when the custody battle between him and Leanne would ultimately begin, but it was a positive start and hopefully one less thing to weigh on Carla's mind.

"What I don't understand though Carla, is how you made it out of there." Michelle stated, watching the factory boss as she slowly padded into the kitchen to make her a brew. "I mean, you must have been as terrified as you were the night he…" She trailed off, exchanging a furtive glance with Peter as she sat down at the table opposite him.

_I have to tell them the truth_, Carla had thought as she absent-mindedly poured milk into Michelle's mug, not noticing how erratically her hands were shaking until she reached for the spoon to stir the liquid. The trembling of her fingers was almost hypnotic; her eyes fixed upon them in a trance-like state and barely registering that Peter had moved from his seat to stand behind her.

She couldn't stop the involuntary shudder of her muscles as he had laid his hands upon her; her shoulders tensing and her body hunching forward. But instead of stepping away, Peter had gently turned her to face him. "Hey," he said softly, lowering himself to meet her downtrodden eyes, "it's just me..."

From her perch at the table, Michelle had watched the scene unfold before her, amazed by the connection the two lovers shared. She could the moment Carla's shoulders began to relax once more. Peter gingerly ran his hands up and down her arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before taking Michelle's coffee and leading Carla back to the sofa.

Carla had sunk back into the welcome warmth of the settee, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her body, as her eyes glanced first to Michelle, who sat at the edge of her seat, cupping the mug of coffee between her palms tightly, and finally back to Peter, who gingerly sat down next to Carla on the sofa and wrapped his arm protectively around her.

"The truth is 'Chelle, I couldn't muster up the strength to fight him off. When he taunted me and told me that the rape was my fault, I wanted nothing more than to slap that smug look off his face, and believe me I did try. But again," she had swallowed the lump that caught in her throat, "just like the night at the flat, he just completely overpowered me. I couldn't break free. I thought that the reason I couldn't fight him off the first time was that I was in shock and just petrified. But that night he were killed proved me wrong. I was so sure I would be able to push him off and leg it. But the truth was, he had me right where he wanted me and nothing I did would have gotten me away from him that night." She looked down as the tears began welling up in her eyes.

Peter's hands clenched into fists. The thought of Frank coming so close to assaulting Carla again made his blood boil, but he pushed his anger down and gently kissed his girlfriend's temple as she furiously wiped away the tears that had started to trickle down her cheeks in annoyance. How was it that Frank, she thought, that even in death, still maintained such a powerful hold over her emotions?

"He told me how much he enjoyed taking my factory from me and how it meant he had screwed me twice," she had continued, "then he pushed up against me, and asked if I fancied going for the _hat trick_." The words dripped with venom as she spoke them. "I saw the whiskey bottle on the filing cabinet, and wondered if I'd be able to grab it and hit him over the head….ironic eh?" she gave a small chuckle, "thinking the same way as his mother did? But I didn't have the opportunity. He pushed me so hard against the railing that I could barely breathe." Her body had begun to convulse with shakes and Peter's grip on her shoulders tightened as he pulled her against him.

"I kept trying to push him off me, but I couldn't. The railing was digging into my back and his hands were everywhere again, and I knew… I just knew that if I couldn't get out, right then and there, that it was going to happen again."

"Baby, look at me," Peter placed two fingers under her chin, and turned her head gently towards him, "I know you were scared that night, and then everything that happened the next morning took us by surprise but Carla, you know you can tell me the truth. I need you to tell me, baby. Did he -?"

"No," she patted his knee reassuringly, "No, he didn't get the chance. Because," she licked her lips nervously, "because someone was there. Standing just behind him..."

Michelle and Peter exchanged glances, "Anne?" Michelle whispered.

Carla stared at the wall just opposite her and she chewed her lip thoughtfully. She couldn't tell them the truth, could she? They'd think she was mad for sure. Hell, she hadn't even been sure of the truth herself...

She swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged her shoulders, "yeah, it must have been," she lied, "But I can't say for sure, obviously, or I would have told them coppers the next day. I mean my vision was blurred from the tears in my eyes and Frank was just hovering over me. But I just stared at that shadow like it were a lifeline, you know? And Frank, he - he must of figured something was wrong because I had just froze. When he looked over his shoulder, I saw my chance and I hit him with my purse and pushed him back and just legged it. I don't even know how he wasn't able to stop me. He should have been able to. But I just kept running until I got here." She sniffed and used the back of her hand to brush away the tears that were pooling in her eyes, "I never said anything to the police about the shadow because I wasn't even certain I saw it, myself. My head was a right mess and I certainly couldn't prove anything so I just bottled it, I guess..." she rubbed her forehead in frustration, "look, umm I really just want to try to put the whole thing behind me. And I know I may never really get past what he did to me but I need to start trying to move on. I'm sorry I'm being so moody but I'm just so tired today."

Michelle moved over to the sofa, "Yeah, well you're not going to get any more energized at work, are you?" she planted a kiss on Carla's forehead, "And you certainly don't need to be in that factory today with all the whispers and gossip."

Carla chuckled, "What? And miss out on tea and sympathy with Julie?"

Michelle nodded and laughed, "Yeah, exactly! Look you stay here today and rest up," she had held up a finger to silence her friend, "Ah! No arguments. I'm making an executive decision."

Carla snorted, "An executive decision, hark at her, the next Richard Branson." She put both her hands up in mock surrender when Michelle gave her a playful shove, "Okay, okay Miss Branson, I'll take a duvet day, alright? I dunno, maybe I'll finally be able to try to catch up on some sleep."

"Well that were easier than I anticipated but good. Rest up babes. I'll come and check up on you later, yeah?" Carla nodded, giving her friend's hand a squeeze and only letting go when Michelle finally moved towards the door, giving a small wave as she exited the flat.

As Michelle's footsteps on the stairs echoed through the room, Peter inched closer to Carla. He cupped her cheek and gently brushed the tears that had fallen away with his thumb and she smiled lopsidedly at him; a half-hearted attempt to reassure him that she was fine.

Peter however wasn't fooled. He could, after all, read her like a book. 'What is she not telling me?' he thought. But as much as he may have wanted to press her for the truth, he knew she was too exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Besides, he thought, Frank was dead and Anne had been arrested for his murder. Carla was safe, and they finally had the chance to start their life together. So instead of pushing her for answers, he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lips, "Si's going to stay at me dad's tonight, so why don't we order a takeaway and watch a movie tonight, eh? Just me and you."

Carla nodded and smiled, "That sounds perfect."

Peter smiled at her, "Okay, I'll get you the duvet, love. And then I'm going to go open the Bookies. I'll be right downstairs if you need anything." She nodded as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

Once Peter left the flat, Carla curled up on the sofa, her fingers inching the duvet up under her chin. Even though she was damn good at it, she hated lying, especially to Peter. But she wasn't even sure of what had happened that night. One thing she did know for certain, was that the figure in the factory was definitely not Anne Foster.

She knew exactly who she had seen, but after all the trauma she had been through the past few years, she was starting to doubt if her mind was simply playing tricks on her.

After all, it was impossible for it to be who it was...

...wasn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

Carla woke with a start, her eyes darting about the empty flat; the duvet messily entangled around her legs and her skin covered in a thin veil of sweat.

She had seen _him_ again.

Pushing herself up she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, desperately wishing it was something stronger instead.

She downed the liquid in one steady gulp, quickly re-filling the glass before moving back to the sofa. Putting the water on the side table, she sunk her head into her hands, running her fingers through her now tangled hair, as she tried to steady her breathing. She sat up, grabbing the material of her shirt with unsteady fingers and began shaking it away from her damp skin, trying to give her hot flesh a much-needed breeze.

_'I have to be crazy,'_ she had thought frantically. There wasn't any other explanation she could rationalize to make sense of it all; _'you've well and truly gone doolally, now Connor,'_ she scolded herself.

But she also knew that the night of Foster's murder was not the first time she had seen the shadowy figure.

The first was two October's ago: the day she and Trevor broke up. She had been at breaking point and contemplating reaching for the bottle yet again when she decided to head into an AA meeting instead to get some proper help. But when Carla saw Peter there, she had panicked and made a hasty exit, only to later have him come round to check on her. It enraged her that she had let her mask fall in front of him- that Leanne's fiancee had seen through the exterior she had built up around herself. So she responded the best way she knew how - by downing alcohol and lashing out at him as he had tried to help her.

But Peter's words had struck a nerve, and after kicking him out of the factory, she rushed into the ladies' to splash cold water on her face, hating the image of herself that reflected back at her in the mirror. But she fought down her nausea again and, after taking multiple shaky breaths, she fixed her makeup as best she could and made the decision to call herself a cab, knowing that she wasn't in a fit state to drive.

But it was as she turned to leave the toilets that she saw him — standing at the door, that damn smug smirk on his face.

_"My, my how the feisty have fallen," Tony stated as he leaned against the bathroom door. Carla stood staring at him, her body shaking as the buzz from the copious amount of alcohol she had necked started to wear off. "Red wine not doing it for you anymore? I sure hope I'm not to blame for this sudden surge in strong tastes?" He stated with his trademark arrogance._

_Carla moved towards the door, "Always about you innit Tony?" She managed to place her hand right through him to grasp the door handle, feeling a slight chill as she did. Ignoring the goosebumps that lined her skin, she pulled the door open and walked shakily into her office. _

_'Calm down. He's not real,' she told herself._

_"Oh, but I am," Tony whispered into her right ear, causing her to collapse in fright into her chair. "You see," he rested his hands on either arm of her seat and leaned in close, "even though my physical form may not be whole, I can assure you that I am here."_

_"I've finally lost my mind, haven't I?" she croaked._

_Tony chuckled. "Did you ever really have it?"_

_"So wh-what; are you here to torment me for the rest of my life?" Carla questioned._

_Tony straightened up and walked about the office. "I've missed this place. I have to admit; I love the renovations that you made after my last appearance."_

_"You always did want to take the easy way out when it came to redecorating." Carla joked in spite of herself. Tony chuckled and turned to look at her. She shuddered at the intensity of his gaze; at the twinkle in his eye and half-smile. For a brief moment, it was as though she was looking at the Tony she had fallen for years ago. The man who swore to love her above all others. _

_'Hmmph, until he fell for little Miss Muffet, that is,' she snorted contemptuously._

_"So, where is this man who was 'worth ten of me,' or shouldn't I have to guess what happened there?" _

_"Why are you here, Tony?"_

_"Well, funny enough, I never left, my dear. You see, this seems to be my punishment for everything I have done. I thought I had repented for causing Liam's death by trying to do right by his little boy, but it seems that the 'powers that be' didn't think it was quite enough -particularly after my grand finale a few months ago. So here I am," he outstretched his arms, "a ghost with unfinished business, per se."_

_"What kind of business?" Carla arched an eyebrow, her eyes not leaving the figure of her ex-husband._

_Tony's face became sombre as he looked upon her. "Protecting you."_

_"Me?" she scoffed. "Protecting ME? You tried to kill me in your twisted murder-suicide attempt, you Scotch psycho!"_

_"Ever the romantic, me. But in all seriousness, Carla, I am here to warn you: Very shortly, a man will enter your life, and he will cause you great pain."_

_"Who?" she whispered._

_"I'm not privy to that information, my dear. All I know is I can't fully enter the afterlife until I have succeeded in protecting you. I am only able to move between this factory and the in-between, as it were, until I have completed my task."_

_"So you've come here to tell me that I need to watch out for a man who may hurt me sometime in the future, but you can't tell me who, or when-"_

_"It'll be very soon, Carla," he interrupted._

_"Oh, and that narrows it down, does it? You know Tony, you are as vile dead as you were when you were alive! You only want to torment me, punish me because I loved Liam and because I didn't follow you into the afterlife." She pushed herself up onto her unsteady legs up and leaned close to his transparent form, "well, you can trudge or hover around this factory all you want. But I will not be pushed around by the person who killed the only thing that…" she trailed off._

_'You're arguing with a figment of your imagination, Connor,' she scolded herself. Shaking her head, she quickly grabbed her bag and mobile and exited the office._

_But as she reached the main doors, she paused. "You know when you asked if it were you that caused my drinking? Well, it was," Carla turned back towards the office, her eyes fixed upon Tony as he leaned against the office window, "ever since that night in June...in here..."_

_Tony looked away from her, "What's wrong, Tony, hey? Feel guilty about it now? Because if any of this afterlife stuff is actually real and you're not simply my alcohol-fuelled mind playing tricks on me, then you would know that despite what I felt for Liam, that I did love you an' all." She looked down for a moment, "Don't you remember the night I proposed to you?" she asked quietly._

_The corners of Tony's mouth curled up into a soft smile. "The elastic band…" _

_"I meant everything I said that night." She looked up as tears filled her eyes again. "And I am sorry that I hurt you, Tony. Whether you believe it or not, I am. But you killed Liam, you had no remorse for it, and you blamed me for driving you to it. And if that wasn't enough, you tried to kill me because you wanted her," She laughed, "who would've thought it, eh? Two men who I loved both ended up choosing Maria."_

_She brushed the back of her hand along her wet cheeks. "That's why I drink Tony." She continued, "To make myself feel as numb as possible to the truth, that I'm just a prize to be won and eventually discarded-"_

_"Carla, that's not-"_

_"-My family never wanted me, I were nothing more than a trophy wife to Paul and, as he much as he said otherwise, I know Liam would have chosen Maria when he found out she was up the stick. And then there was you," she cocked her head to the side, her eyes locking on his, "and that were just lust, weren't it? 'Cause when it came down to it… you said it yourself: Maria was everything I never was, right? I'm just the girl that no one wants." _

_Tony looked down and shook his head, "That's not true-"_

_She scoffed at his words, "I justified that it were different with you. How wrong was I, hey? 'Cause even after you confessed to killing Liam you swore that you would never physically harm a hair on my head. But you did just that. You may have broken me down, Tony, but I'll be damned if I let the memory of you destroy me any further..."_

Carla sighed, her fingers idly playing with the bandage around her hand as the memory of that night washed over her. She didn't remember how she had garnered the strength to walk out of the factory, but somehow she did. Upon ensuring the ghost of her past was locked inside, she had found her way back to her flat.

Suddenly feeling the urge for another coffee, Carla rose to her feet, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts that plagued her. When did she get so paranoid? She didn't believe in ghosts, especially not in ghosts of her past husbands.

No. Tony being in the factory the night of Frank's murder, or the night she broke up with Trevor for that matter- it simply wasn't possible. She was more than sure she had hallucinated the whole thing. Because anytime Carla had 'seen' Tony in that factory, she had been in a severely depressive state and fuelled by alcohol.

'It's all just too coincidental,' she thought. After all, she didn't see Tony again for almost an entire year after that.

Until after that night in September…


	3. Chapter 3

"Maria look, I'm really grateful for you staying over, I really am alright?" she shakily exhaled, "but I just want to get on so, please do me a favour: just let me make this decision on me own. Alright? Let me just please-" she squeezed her eyes closed, "- feel as though I'm making one decision on me own, okay?"

Maria looked sadly at the woman next to her. She couldn't fathom why Carla felt it was so necessary to go into work just days after she had been raped. But as her eyes scanned Carla's visage, her gaze falling to the bruises that marred the skin along her neck and shoulders, she slowly began to understand: Carla needed to be back in charge. Or - in the very least - feel that she was in control of something in her life once again, and Underworld was the only place that would give her a semblance of that feeling back.

And so Maria complied, even though she knew it was too soon, and slowly nodded her agreement.

"Okay."

Carla sighed as she heard the factory doors close, leaving her alone in Underworld. She knew Maria only had her best interests at heart, but she couldn't help but feel suffocated by her mother-hen tendencies. And with that suffocation came the claustrophobia. Just like it had the night Frank—

Carla placed her hand above her left breast, feeling her chest constrict painfully beneath her fingertips as she struggled to regulate her breathing. The same way she struggled to breathe oxygen into her lungs when Frank pinned her to the floor of her flat —

She shook her head sharply, desperate to stop yet another rerun of that night. It was, after all, the reason she was in the factory now.

She had paced around the flat like a caged animal after Maria had left for work that morning. Desperate to keep her mind off the memories that it replayed on a seemingly endless loop.

She had tried to distract herself by doing a load of laundry but found her gaze drawn continuously back to the front door. To the feeling of her back being pushed into it, to Frank's fingernails sinking into her skin like razor blades as he gripped her by her arms...

...and then by her throat.

It was then that the walls of her flat seemed to well and truly close in around her, and she leaned over the back of her settee, her head dipping low as her breath came in quick short bursts, and as hot tears trailed down her face. No matter how hard she tried to calm herself down, she just couldn't escape the memory of Frank's cold, dark eyes as his voice echoed through the empty flat.

_"It's your fault. You made me do it..."_

Her fingers dug mercilessly into the cushion of her sofa.

_"... it's your fault..."_

A whimper escaped her dry lips as she raised her tear-filled eyes to scan the room.

She was alone — alone in the place where it had happened — and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that he was there with her somehow, all around her, becoming a part of her so that she could never escape him.

_"...your fault... your..."_

Abandoning the freshly cleaned laundry in a messy heap on the settee, Carla quickly changed her clothes and called a cab, desperate to find solace in the only place she believed she could escape it all; the only place left where she felt a sense of comfort.

Both her and Frank's computers were in sleep mode._ 'Hayley must have been catching up on the orders,'_ she thought. The orders she had delegated to her before the wedding.

The wedding.

It seemed like months, not days since she had anxiously paced her office: nervous about how she could get out of the business partnership with her fiancée without violating their contract. She knew he wouldn't want to continue working with her after she told him their relationship was over. But what caused her the most distress, was the enormous guilt that gnawed at her insides. The guilt of knowing that while she was about to deeply hurt Frank by calling off their engagement, especially after all he had done for her, she secretly revelled in the freedom that awaited her on the other side of that conversation.

The relationship was toxic. It hadn't started off that way, but it was certainly how it had ended. She had found herself behaving erratically, more so than usual: jumping into a car and driving under the influence in a bid to get away from his possessive, controlling, and - if she was honest - frightening behaviour the night of their engagement party.

She bit her lip and touched her fingers to her arm, still able to feel the vice-like grip he had taken of her as he dragged her across the Bistro; the way he chastised her and then taunted her about Peter.

And the way he looked at her - like she was some wild thing he needed to tame, to break – she had seen it then. This wasn't the same Frank that comforted her after her mum died. Not the same Frank that swept her off her feet in Rome.

_This_ Frank scared her.

But after the accident, despite his manipulation of the situation, he had softened towards her again. The gentle touches had returned, the soft kisses...

And while she knew she was still having doubts about marrying him, she had convinced herself that his controlling, dominating behaviour of that night in the Bistro had simply been a one-off.

How naive she had been.

She wrapped her arms around herself, her body shivering relentlessly as memories of them before their engagement dinner with his parents flooded her mind. How happy he was. How in love with her he had seemed to be...

_"...you made me do it..."_

Making a beeline to Hayley's workstation, she grabbed the wastebasket that laid beside it and hunched over it, begging for relief from the bile that circled in her stomach. But, once again, her body instead lurched painfully into another dry-heaving fit.

She let out a sob as she sank down into the chair, still hugging the wastebasket to her chest as tears sprang to her eyes. Between the constant dry heaving, the inability to sleep, and surviving on nothing more than endless the cups of tea Maria would make her, she didn't know how much more of this routine she would be able to take before she lost what was left of her sanity...

_'How did it come to this?'_ she thought.

_"It's your fault, you made me do it..."_

Whiskey.

She needed whiskey.

Taking two more steadying breaths, she rose to her feet but quickly jumped back in fright, dropping the wastebasket to the floor with a loud clang.

There he was: sitting on her desk. A sombre expression upon his face as he gazed at her.

Her eyes unmoving from her ex-husband, she tentatively bent down and reached for the oversized purse that lay just beyond her feet, wincing slightly at the stinging pain that pulsed through her lower body.

She knew Tony was dead, and yet here he was again, seemingly in the flesh. If she wasn't stone-cold sober, she would have been sure she was experiencing another drunken hallucination.

"Carla."

Her body instinctively relaxed as the gentle hum of his voice wrapped around her like a cocoon. She didn't feel safe per se, but for the first time since the rape, she didn't feel threatened either.

"Come to gloat, have you?" she mumbled as she straightened up and forced herself to walk into the office.

"Why would I ever gloat about what he did to you?" Tony turned his body to follow her, watching as she placed her purse down beside the desk and pressed herself against the white shelving unit, ensuring she kept a significant distance between them.

"So, you know, then?" She asked, hugging her arms across her chest.

"Yes."

A feeling of shame overtook her as her eyes met his soft brown ones, and she quickly averted her gaze to focus instead on the tiles of her office floor.

"Of course you do," she scoffed bitterly, angered by the pity in his response, "So, is it a 'ghost' thing, hey? You find out what he did through the phantom grapevine or summat?"

"No, I uhh, I saw it. Along with your Paul-" Carla's head snapped up as he continued on, a sneer forming on his lips as he painfully hissed the words out, "goes with the territory you see: forced to watch your loved ones live their lives, the good and the bad. But unable to stop the pain that befalls them. You just feel it, in your soul like a knife slowly slicing through your insides...we couldn't stop it, Carla. The two of us were unable to do a damn thing about it."

"You and Paul?" She quivered, and Tony's eyes met hers again.

"Yes. We were in purgatory together up until just recently. Paul has atoned for his sins now you see, for his role with Dean and then with Lean-..." He saw the flicker of pain flash across her face and decided to change tack, "You should have seen him when I first arrived," he grinned, "told me he was going to kill me."

Carla let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah, that were my Paul, leaping before thinking." She shuffled her feet, "did he say 'owt about me?"

"He had plenty to say about you. All lovely things, which was the reason he wanted to end my non-existent life." He laughed before a seriousness took over again, "Paul was gutted when he heard you say that he never wanted you. He loved you so much, Carla, he wants you to know that. He was just a weak, daft man."

Carla bit her lip, "is um," she looked towards the ceiling, silently willing the tears to stop, "is Liam there?"

Tony sighed, "no. By the time I got there, Liam had already atoned his sins; for his role in Dean's death mostly," Tony lowered his gaze, his voice now barely a whisper, "just more proof that he always was the better man all along..." he shook his head sadly. The guilt of his actions during his time on earth giving him a brief pause before he continued on, "probably for the best, I don't think he would have taken as well to the arrangement as Paul did."

"Arrangement? What arrangement?"

"Paul's final task you see was not only to forgive me but to learn to trust me. Forgive me for going after his widow so soon after he died, for killing his brother, and attempting to kill you. Took him almost a year to learn that, but he did; and now that he has put his trust in me to protect you, he's been able to move on," Tony's eyes bore pleadingly into hers, "neither one of us could stop what happened that night Carla; Paul would have been the first one to apparate there and snap that slithery snake's neck."

"I should have listened to you last October," she whispered, "I thought maybe you had been warning me about Peter since he had rejected me…several times. I mean, after all, I didn't think anyone could hurt me more than you had already done," she laughed bitterly, "boy was I wrong, hey?"

Tony slid off the desk, his sudden movement jolting Carla back against the cabinet. Her eyes widened in fear and her body convulsing with tremors. "Hey," Tony raised both his hands out in front of him as if he were approaching a scared child, "Carla, I can't hurt you, nor would I want to."

Carla shivered; her breaths heavy and shallow, "I've heard that old chestnut before, though, 'aven't I?"

"I know, but trust me now," he reassured her stepped closer to her, "please..."

Her nails dug into the wood of the unit behind her. She watched, frozen, as he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders.

She sighed as she stared into his eyes, her body relaxing of its own accord beneath his touch. Offering her a smile, he gently guided her towards her desk chair, which she sank upon gratefully.

He moved away from her, giving her space as she continued to take in slow breaths in a bid to quell her racing heart and leaned against Frank's desk.

"Ho-how, were you able to touch me?" she stammered, "I reached right through you last October?"

"When the need of the living is great, the essence of my being transforms into the flesh. With all of its blood and tissue and strength. Just for a moment, mind. And then once again, I dissipate into the air so that I slip through your fingers like smoke."

Carla dropped her head into her hands, her fingers running through her hair, _'This is mad,'_ she chastised herself, feeling what little was left of her self control slide out of her grasp, _'you're well and truly losing the plot, now!'_

Reaching into her desk, she pulled out the bottle of whiskey and tumbler that resided there. She knew Tony was watching as she poured the golden liquid into the glass. She could practically feel the pity emanating off of him, and it had disgusted her so profoundly that she downed the alcohol in one swift movement, before refilling the glass again.

"Carla, you shouldn't be here right now." He stated softly.

She scoffed as she swallowed another mouthful of whiskey, "Oh, special advisor to rape victims, are you, Mr. Gordon?"

"Carla, you need-"

"How the hell do you know what I need?" She snapped, the whiskey splashing in her glass as she forcefully placed it down on the desk with a thwack, "you know what I want, Tony?" her olive eyes flashed dangerously, "I want you to leave me alone! I don't want to hear about how you and Paul are bezzy mates now –"

"I never said we were best friends, Carla-" he watched helplessly as she topped up her glass with more whiskey.

"-and I don't want to hear about how you wanted to stop Frank from raping me, and I certainly don't want your opinion on how to cope. What I want, Tony is for you to LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!" she slammed the bottle on the desk.

Her eyes fixed upon his, silently challenging him to defy her request for solitude. But instead, he nodded softly.

"Okay, if that's what you want, I'll go. But please, look after yourself."

He made his way towards the office door before pausing, "Maria's right, Carla, you're a fighter. Always have been. You didn't let me take you down; don't let that scum be the end of you."

She watched him vanish through the office door, his words lingering in her ears.

She took another sip of the whiskey and shook her head.

_'Oh, yes. You are definitely losing it...'_

Trying to bring her mind back to reality, she turned on the computer, keyed in her password, and stared at the spreadsheet that splashed across the screen.

She didn't notice the time passing as she scanned the document. Didn't see how dark the factory had become, not that it would have bothered her if she had done. She had grown to prefer the dark over the past few days; it hid the bruises on her wrists, her shoulder, her thighs...

She continued to stare at the computer screen mindlessly and began nervously chewing her fingernails as she mulled over Tony's words.

_'Was what he said about Paul true?'_ she asked herself, _'Was any of it real?'_

So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she didn't realize she was being watched.

She stopped chewing her nail, suddenly desperate for the whiskey to numb her senses. Tearing her eyes from the monitor, she brought the glass up to her lips when a slight movement outside the office caught her attention. She raised her tired gaze to the window, half-expecting to see one of her workers standing there pitying her. But when she saw Frank staring at her through the glass, she sputtered the liquid in her mouth, her hand fumbling with the tumbler as she furiously pushed her chair backwards, stopping only when it collided into the cabinet behind her.

"No, no, no…"


End file.
